


Merry Mickey

by Officialbroop



Series: (thanks)Giving Gallavich [2]
Category: gallavich - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gallavich, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8328193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officialbroop/pseuds/Officialbroop
Summary: Gallaghers are notorious for hosting the best family-filled thanksgiving in the South Side. But when Ian learns that someone he loves is spending it alone, he buys a turkey for two and sets off.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this took so long! I had to redo it a few times do to accidentally forgetting to save it and I also experienced a bit of a writers block but I'm up and running again. Thank you all so much for being patient!

It is three in the morning when Fiona wakes up, sweating and panting from a nightmare she had. Weirdly, though, it wasn't about her. It was about her brother, Ian, and the Milkovich kid that he's been drooling over for the past year. Yeah, she was in the dream, but the main concern was for her little brother. It was strange, the things that her imagination decided to picture. Ian, the Milkovich boy, her and Lip all running from God knows what, Mickey shouting incoherent things to everyone, ushering Fiona and Lip to separate, and Ian refusing to leave Mickey. Of course he would, he is in love with the kid and that scares the shit out of his older sister. Suddenly, gunshots fired and Mickey screamed a petrified shriek as Fiona and her brother ran to find the two boys. Mickey was applying pressure to Ian's side, and Ian was barely breathing, the occasional and barely noticeable heave in his chest. He had a dead stare and his eyes were cold and soulless, his face having no expression. The weird part was that neither Lip nor Fi could do anything but stand there and watch, both emotionless. Mickey, on the other hand, was a fucking wreck. Tears stained his cheeks and blood was all over his body as he screamed profoundly and sobbed in oppression. That was when Fi jolted awake, staring at the wall as she gasped for air. 

Fortunately, it was all just a dream.

But she takes it as a sign. She's always had her suspicions about the dangerous Mickey Milkovich. His family is a complete train wreck- worse than hers, and that's saying a lot- and his father is a homophobic alcoholic who abuses his kids for the hell of it. Shit, the Milkovich family is like a brutal Gallagher family. There is love in the Milkovich household, though the only people who have really seen that love are Ian and Lip so it's only fair of Fiona to assume that it's driven by hate. Mickey loves Mandy and would do anything to protect her, same about his brothers. It's ironic how the tough thug of the family is the one with the biggest heart and the most beautiful brain, but he is too scared to let anyone see that side of him. He's been traumatized and his mind has been tortured into believing that if his feelings are expressed in any form of emotion then he is a pussy. Terry has literally beaten the idea into Mickey that real men don't cry, and real men don't love other men. It's a shame that Mickey was unfortunate enough to believe this, and that Ian has practically given up all hope of changing his mind.

Fiona wanders downstairs and she curses under her breath as she stumbles upon a couch. Why the fuck is there a couch in the middle of the living room? How the fuck-

"Hey." She hears a sweet rumble and immediately recognizes her boyfriend's voice. She smiles and searches her way through the three a.m. darkness to fall into Jimmy's arms and kiss him passionately. "Did you just run a marathon? You're sweating like a soccer player, babe." 

Fiona sighs and decides to tell Jimmy about her dream as he nods and "mhmm"'s to let her know that he's paying attention. 

"I don't know what it means. Ian cares about Mickey a lot and I'm not sure if Mickey feels the same way and I don't want him hurting my little brother more than he already has. He's dangerous and he's not a good role model-"

"Fi." Jimmy interrupts, grabbing her nervously sweating hand. "Ian's his own man. I know that Monica's left you with the impression that you have to play mom, but you gotta let him experience this stuff. Maybe, just maybe, Mickey is right for him. Yeah, he's dangerous, but I feel that Mickey has a soft spot. I mean, remember last Thanksgiving? He was there for Ian and he actually kinda gave a shit." 

Fiona's mind sidetracks at this response. He's right. As much as she hates to admit it, Jimmy is right. She doesn't want to see Ian getting hurt, but everyone needs to experience it. No wonder it's so hard for her to sit around while her brother is potentially making a heartbreaking decision. The Gallaghers are always getting hurt, and it's not fair to Ian that she's just going to stand there while his heart gets battered and bruised time and time again. But, for his sake and for hers, she decides to unwillingly let him have his own relationship. Like Jimmy said, it's his life and he needs to experience it. 

"It's just-" Fiona takes a deep inhale and stares at Jimmy with sorrowful eyes. "-I think the dream is sending me a message. I'm not sure what. I have no fucking idea what the sign would be pointing to, but I just have a feeling that it means something." 

Jimmy approaches his brooding girlfriend from behind and begins to gently massage her shoulders as she relaxes into his touch. It's comforting and makes her stress become more relieved, which she's extremely thankful for. "Maybe," Jimmy begins to suggest, "instead of focusing on your brother's tarnished relationship, you should think about what we're gonna do today for Thanksgiving." 

"Wait, we're actually celebrating that this year?" Fiona shoots up and sends Jimmy an annoyed look, not directed towards him but towards the though of the dreadful holiday. 

"Uh, yeah. Why wouldn't we?"

"Remember the shit last year?" Fiona feels her stomach churn and her heart clench with the slightest mention of last year. Neither she, nor anyone else in the Gallagher household has brought up Monica's incident since it happened. "What if it triggers the kids again? Or if- if she comes back?" Fiona's voice becomes fragile as it trails off. 

"Hey, a wise woman once said that 'Thanksgiving is the family tradition' and the Gallaghers are a family. One shitty situation didn't bring us down and we need to remember that we can come together with love and joy. We're fuckin' Gallaghers." 

Fiona smirks up at Jimmy. "So you're a Gallagher now?"

"Well, I mean-"

"That means you ain't gonna leave me?" Fiona asks, almost insists, as Jimmy wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her into him. 

"Of course I'm not gonna leave." He whispers into her neck as she squeezes him tighter and kisses his shoulder. "But Thanksgiving is in about 21 hours so let's get a move on!"

_______________________________________

Ian can hear the commotion downstairs but that doesn't mean he likes it or wants to hear it. Ve squeals and Kev breaks something as everyone laughs. Even Mandy is downstairs with Lip, though they are somewhat distant lately, and Carl is arguing with Debbie over some book. Fiona is clearly cooking, Ian can smell the turkey wafting upstairs and sneaking through his door. Everyone seems to be having a great time, so why let Ian's heartache ruin that? 

Ever since Terry caught Ian and Mickey fucking and beat the living shit out of his son, Mickey hasn't been the same. Shit, the guy can barely talk to the red head boy without secretly shedding a tear and thinking Ian won't notice. Ian hasn't noticed, and maybe that's why he has the idea drilled into his head that Mickey doesn't give a shit about him. Of course Mickey cares, but there's a limit to how much he can show it without fear that Terry is lurking around each corner, stalking his prey until the opportunity comes for him to pounce into action. 

Ian doesn't care what day it is. Jesus could be resurrecting on his doorstep and he'd still refuse to get out of bed. He can't celebrate Thanksgiving without Mickey. It's just not the same. If Mickey hates Ian so much then he could've just come to tell him off, not just leave the red head sitting there for months and wondering what the fuck is coming next. The whole situation infuriates Ian, but in the end it saddens him more than angers him. He can't say he understands because he doesn't; he has an accepting family. And maybe that's why Mickey is so distant: because he doesn't want Ian to ever have to understand what it's like to get the shit beaten out of you because of your sexuality. 

Maybe Mickey is protecting Ian.

Still, it doesn't make up for the fact that Mickey fucking neglected him. It's not fair to Ian, and Mickey knows that. Even though it's one in the afternoon, Ian decides to roll over and get some sleep, since there's nothing better to do. He hears someone stampede up the stairs and his door creaks open. He doesn't look- though maybe he should try that sometime- and calls out, "Fi, I'm fine. I'm okay." 

"You're obviously not fine, asshole." He hears Mandy say as he rolls over, propping himself up on an elbow. Mandy scans him and reads his face like a novel, suspecting the answer in his droopy eyes. 

"Mickey." He answers for her after a moment of silence as she nods. "I just-" Ian huffs and closes his eyes, searching for the words to describe his pain. "I can't believe he'd just leave me like this, no explanation or nothing. He could've at least come here with you and told me off or something. But this bullshit's just too much."

"Ian." Mandy says with concern. "Mickey hasn't been home for almost a month. He's off hiding, he has been since Terry came and told him off again."

Ian shoots up when he hears this, suddenly filled with anxiety. "Wait. He just- he's gone?"

"He's hiding." Mandy corrects him. But Ian doesn't give a shit if the term is 'sleeping in a bear carcass' as long as it all means the same shit. "And when a Milkovich hides it's fucking impossible to find us. You can try to, but I guarantee you'll get nowhere." 

"So what? You just expect me to sit here on my ass while Mickey could be in danger? He could be dead right now. No way. I gotta find him." Ian stands up and throws on a tight long sleeve and some skinny jeans and Mandy just stares at him, not too shocked by his behavior, as she pulls a loaded gun out of her jacket and hands it to him. God knows why she's has that. 

She smiles up at Ian and says "ya know, it's dangerous." 

"Mandy, I'm already in deep with a Milkovich. Mickey Milkovich. I think I can handle this shit." She laughs nervously as she hugs her red haired best friend and kisses him on the cheek. Jesus, her brother must be mental to let go of a guy like Ian.

"I have no clue what Mickey was thinking when he ran off. He's lucky to have someone like you." She beams as Ian smirks anxiously and stomps down the stairs. He's immediately greeted by a grinning Debbie, who bounces excitedly up and down, clinging to her brother's side as he runs a hand through her knotted hair. 

"Hey." Lip calls when he gets downstairs. He hugs Ian and gives him a brotherly pat on the back. "Didn't think you were gonna get out of bed." He teases as Ian half grins, only somewhat amused by his brother's attempt at a joke.

"Wasn't planning on it but some business came up. Look," he pleads as he stares at his older brother hopefully, "you think you could cover for me?" Lip doesn't even need to ask why. He knows that Ian is going to find Mickey. He's been fucking miserable without him and though he doesn't want to let his brother get hurt or be exposed to any more danger, he figures that if Ian really wants this it's the least he can do.

"Yeah, yeah totally. I'll tell Fi that you went to pick up an extra shift at the Kash 'N Grab. She doesn't know you quit." He lets out a breathy laugh. "She's so distraught I could tell her that you were going to the bottom of the ocean to collect clams and she wouldn't suspect a thing." Ian laughs at that last remark, and he begins to walk towards the door. 

"One last thing," Lip says as Ian turns around to stare at him, "will you be home before dinner?" Ian nods, though it doesn't hold a lot of truth, and leaves the house, the wind slamming the door shut. At this point, he really wishes that he would've grabbed a jacket as the cold air nips at his rosy cheeks. Oh, how great November weather is.

_______________________________________

It's been about an hour of Ian walking around with no sign of Mickey anywhere and no response as Ian calls his name repeatedly. He did, however, almost run into his previous 'lover', if you can even call him that. He noticed Kash loading boxes into the back of his truck and nearly turned the corner, but caught himself. He considered talking to his old boss, but decided to save himself the awkward reunion and the extra distraction.

Mickey. Mickey. Mickey. That is his main focus.

Ian won't give up until he finds the missing Milkovich. What would be the point of searching if he came back with nothing? He's come too far to give up, though the weather is trying to convince him otherwise. The air stings his nose and fingertips, and he has convinced himself that his balls are going to soon lose circulation and fall off. But he refuses to stop looking, he can't stop. For Mickey's sake, and his own well being.

Ian has checked every bar, alleyway, and crackhouse but he's yet to find the blue eyed boy. He then realizes that his only option is to either ask his brothers, or Terry- which Ian might as well pick out his burial sight while he's ahead. He crossed paths with Iggy earlier that day, who said he hadn't seen Mickey since after the shit with Terry but reassured Ian that he was cool with the freckled boy banging his brother, along with the 'Terry is a stupid piece of shit' mantra. He definitely feels relieved that Iggy accepts him, but who the fuck knows about the other brothers.

 

Ian remembers one night, after him and Mickey got into an argument and angrily fucked it out, they were sitting on a rooftop near the Milkovich house when Mickey decided to share some personal stuff to Ian, not only for his boyfriend's content but to reassure himself that he trusted Ian and could tell him things. 

"I have two brothers- at least that I know of-" he scoffed "- that are in prison for robbing a few banks. Some dipshit, Kurt or something stupid, ratted 'em out and got my brothers jail time. I bet you a hundred bucks the sucker will be dead the day they get released." Mickey took a drag of his blunt. "Ya know, the perv that works at Kash in grab." 

Ian's mouth is in a wide 'o' when he realizes that Mickey's talking about Kash. "You mean Kash?"

"Yeah that's- wait. Ah I totally- oh my fuck. I'm so fucking dumb. I get it, Kash runs Kash 'N Grab. It's sad that I'm only now just realizing this." Mickey chugs down some of his beer and looks over at Ian, who is staring at him intently as he waits for him to continue. 

"I always told myself that if I ever ran off I'd tell Jamie and Colin where I'd go, 'cause I know that if I got into any shit they'd have my back. They'd kill for me- shit, they'd kill for any of us Milkoviches." Mickey hesitates on the last part, since on any normal day he'd shrug it off and say something dumb instead of expressing his feelings. But he decides, just this once, to say something sentimental in order to get the bubbly feelings out of his system. He'll blame it on the weed if he has to. "I'll tell em where I'm going and why, and I'll even tell em about the alienated freckle face." And with that, they carried on talking about cats and weird sex. 

 

Ian takes a deep breath as he braces himself for what he's about to do. It's a huge step for him since he knows that the Milkovich family is completely unexpected, oh he knows that too well. He prays to God- though he's never been a firm believer- that Mickey talked to his brothers and mentioned Ian, or this won't go as smooth as he's hoping.

"Who are you here for?" A man who has clearly no interest in being there asks. He's short and his voice is crabby.

"Um, Colin and Jamie Milkovich?" 

"You can only see one of them." The man says, sounding like the receptionist from Monsters Inc.

"Shit." Ian mutters as he fumbles around in his pocket. What the hell does he do now? What if he makes the wrong choice? He can't risk it. "Look." He pleads, fishing out a fifty and passing it to the grouch.

The gaurd'a face lights up and he snatches the money, calling for inmates '552 and 553' and motioning for Ian to follow him. He, now more graciously, asks Ian, "you ever been in one of these before or do I gotta go over the basics?"

"I've done this many times." Ian assures him as the man nods and let's Ian in. Ian sits behind the glass partition anxiously as he picks at his fingernails. He immediately straightens up when two tall men walk in, one with warm eyes and the other with a cold glare. 

"The fuck are you?" The seemingly warm one growls. "If I owe you money I don't got it so you better fuck outta here before I bash your brains into the linoleum. You'll-" 

"Jamie, shut the fuck up." The other one, who Ian assumes to be Colin scolds as Jamie shrugs and slinks back into the metal seat. "I'm guessin' if you're here to discuss some shit then you're looking for Terry. What'd the sick fuck do this time?"

"Actually I'm looking for Mickey." Ian tells them as Jamie nods understandingly. "Wait-" Ian stops himself before he blurts out something that Mickey would kill him for spilling. "Do you guys know about Terry beating the shit out of him?"

"Yeah. Iggy spilled the beans." Jamie says and Ian can feel a huge brick of dread arise from his shoulders. "He's our little bro, we ain't gonna disown his dumb ass, though he shoulda been more secretive about him and that boy. Shit, the poor guy must've gone through Hell and back having to watch him get raped and literally-"

Colin bats the back of Jamie's head as he hisses curse words and uses his brother's name in vain. "You're the boy. You're Mickey's boy. The one with the freckles, fucking alien lookin'. Though it would've helped if he said you were a carrot top. Woulda made this a lot easier." Ian gasps, again relieved. It's like Mickey knew to make this easy on Ian. Like he knew that Ian would come here to find him. "Shit, you must mean a lot to my brother if he actually loves you like he says. Welcome to the family man." 

"Mad respect." Jamie whispers under his breath.

"Shit, you need us to shank a fucker for ya?" Colin offers and a smile pulls up at Ian's lips. It's incredible how Terry, being the piece of shit he is, raised all these great kids. Yeah, they are dangerous thugs but they've got warm hearts and frankly, they're the exact opposite of their deadbeat, piece of shit father. 

"No, I don't need anything like that. Actually, I was hoping you could tell me where Mickey is." Ian paws to get them to crack the secret, praying to Whatever The Fuck's Up There that they know.

Colin's mouth turns into a sour scrunch as if he just ate a lemon and Jamie breaths jaggedly into the phone. "I really want to tell you where he is, but I can't."

"Well, why the fuck not?" Ian asks in a fit of rage.

"He told me not to tell 'Ian', I'm guessing that's you. He said he wants to protect you or something."

Ian closes his eyes, trying to control his heavy breathing and keep his anger consumed as he takes a calm approach in order not to threaten a Milkovich. "Look, I live in the fucking South Side. Your father already wants to kill me, and I'm involved with Mickey so there's not much more danger I can get into. I know that-"

"Milkovich. Time to go." A buff man tells them as they stand up from their seats. Ian throws his head in his hands, completely defeated and sorrow-stricken. It's great that they support him, he's thankful for that, but he doesn't need support. He needs Mickey. Colin notices Ian's gloomy reaction and realizes that Ian does care about Mickey, he could see it in the way Ian's eyes lit up whenever their brother's name was mentioned. And Ian is family now. 

Colin runs back over to the phone and quickly says, "Sandrean Avenue" before going back to join his brother. Ian watches as Jamie scolds him and Colin gives him a pleading stare. Jamie nods and shrugs and then laughs as Colin socks him in the arm. Jumping up from his seat and nearly falling over from happiness, Ian runs out of the building, then realizing he has no clue where the hell he is going. He pulls out his phone- which has 10% battery- and realizes that it's six o'clock and it's already dark outside. He pulls up Google Maps which reveals how far away his destination really is.

"Fuck. There's even more downtown? Shit, how big is the South Side?" Ian asks rhetorically as he searches around for a solution. After walking about half a mile he sees a car rental place and sighs in relief, which he seems to be doing a lot of, as he runs over to it.

"Yo yo. Needs a car?" A tall man in a green jumpsuit asks him. Ian can already sense that this guy is cocky, and it makes him want to hit him over the head with a chair. 

"Yeah I need a car. How much is your cheapest?" He obviously needs a car if he's coming there. That's a stupid fucking question.

"Hmm. Um, one-fifty an hour." 

Ian checks his pockets only to see a fifty and two twenties. "Look, man. I only got-"

"You either pay the amount or don't get the car. Simple." The man says as he returns back to his work. Ian feels his body heat rise and he becomes more and more agitated by the second. Shit, he's not gonna let some fucking prick stop him when he's come so far. He can hear Jimmy's squeaky voice in his mind saying, "if you can't get it, steal it. The only permission you need is your own." Shit, no wonder the guy is a car smuggler. Suits his life motto prefectly. 

Ian isn't sure what he's doing, and he knows that Mickey would call him fucking stupid, but he latches his eye on a Saturn, remembering that Lip once told him that Saturns are the easiest to hot wire- and creeps towards it. He slowly pulls the handle and it clicks, conveniently left unlocked. He hops in and the worker turns around, cursing and running towards the car. Ian's adrenaline is pumping through his body at the speed of light and he can feel his heart about to burst. Satisfaction fills his body as he hears a spark from the wires and the engine start to hiss- it's not as good as a roar but, c'mon, it's a Saturn- and he slams on the breaks, speeding off. 

"I'll return it later!" Ian yells out the window as the frustrated Italian man shakes his fist in outrage. Ian pulls up the map on his phone to direct him to Mickey, his blood pulsating at the thought of finding his runaway love.

He makes a quick stop at an abandoned grocery store and buys himself a small turkey, saving it for him and Mickey. He knows he won't make it for Thanksgiving dinner since it's already eight at night, but he wouldn't be enjoying it without Mickey so there isn't much regret in searching Chicago for the guy he loves.  
_______________________________________

Ian's stomach ties up into knots, doing flips and turns and giving him an extremely uneasy feeling. If he thought his neighbourhood was bad, it might as well be fucking Disneyland compared to where he's landed himself. He checks the map and street again, crossing his fingers that somehow he mixed something up. Nope. Of course Mickey had to choose the shadiest hood in all of Chicago to run away to. He must think Ian isn't crazy enough to look for him here, or even make it this far, because he thinks he's not worth it. But Ian can't wait to prove him wrong. 

A gunshot goes off in the distance, along with yelling and Ian nearly jumps out of his skin when a guy with a gun runs past his stolen car. "You're gonna be fine, Ian. You can do this. You can do this." He convinces himself, though he doesn't believe much of what he is saying. "If Mickey can do it, you can do it." He knows that's a goddam lie. There are a lot of things that Mickey can do that Ian can't do, but this ain't one of them. Regretfully, Ian says "fuck it" and steps out of the car. He immediately hates himself for it when a grubby kid on a skateboard rides past him, a man with a glock chasing him and screaming about 'stealing his bitch'. Ian grips the gun that Mandy gave him tightly, keeping ahold of it as it sits in his jeans, tucked away under his shirt. 

The streets are dark, with only the occasional street lamp lighting up the sidewalk and a bar is on every corner. A frightened Ian shudders when he walks by a store with a broken front window and blood on the ground in front of it. Prostitutes walk up and down the sidewalks, looking for old pervs and horny thugs to jerk off while they push up their boobs and playfully tease with a tug of their underwear. 

Ian realizes that being in the neighborhood that he's in, and seeing the danger in front of him, he needs a plan. He sneaks off into the abandoned, shot up store, which may not have been the smartest choice but it'll do. He takes a pack of gum, anxiously chewing the stale flavor that is supposedly bubble gum, and plotting different ideas in his mind. Finally, after tossing around different options, all of which would most likely get him killed, he settles with the safest and most realistic. He'll go into bars, using the Milkovich last name just in case, look around until he finds Mickey. It's simpler than telling everyone to drop their weapons or holding a gun to people's head. 

He scruffs up his hair, even steals a pack of smokes to really complete the Milkovich look, and knocks himself pretty hard in the eye to top it all off. Leaving the store, he spots a bar that looks pretty full. It reminds him of the Alibi and he gets a sense of home, missing it because he may never make it back there alive- or dead for that matter. He enters and a few people turn to look at him, though his disguise seems to work pretty damn well as they nod in his direction and pay no more attention. 

Ian sits down at the booth and the bar tender approaches him. Her hair is short and brown and tattoos are like sleeves along her arms. "You look like you're lost." She points out as he rubs his- now black and swollen eye. 

"Actually I'm looking for someone." Ian tells her as she glares at him suspiciously, her eyes piercing into him like daggers. 

"You're not a fucking cop, are ya?" She asks and Ian chuckles to the best of his advantage (it's kinda hard to chuckle when you're one wrong move away from death). 

"No. I'm looking for Mickey. Milkovich." Ian says. The lady nods and exits the bar, grabbing Ian's wrist and leading him to a back room where ladies are giving men blowjobs and deep, scratchy moans fill the room. 

"This is Tanner." She introduces Ian to a tall and sturdy man, currently getting sucked off but having no discomfort in having a conversation. "He's lookin' for the Milkovich boy." She says and Tanner pushes the girl's head- the one giving him a good suck- and tells her to wait a second. 

"You know Mickael Aleksander Milkovich?" The man asks, his voice deep and smooth. If he didn't look like he took a bottle of steroids a day maybe Ian would find him attractive. Also, Mickael Aleksander? Mickey never told Ian that was his full name but it's beautiful.

"Yeah. You know where I can find him?" Ian asks, a sudden surge of confidence talking over him. 

"Depends. You comin' after him or something?" 

"No. I'm a Milkovich. Maria fucked some dead beat and left me for dead like the rest of us." Tanner stares at Ian skeptically, as if Ian is going to break. But one thing Ian has learned from living where he does is how to lie but make it seem truthful. And he's really fucking good at it. After a long moment of stare holding, Tanner pulls out a phone and calls a number. 

"Mickey. I got a guy for ya." Pause. "No it's not Terry. If it was he'd be dead." Another pause. "Claims he's a long lost Milkovich." Longer pause. "Yeah she's a slut. She's fucked everyone in Chicago." Shorter pause. "Look, even if the kid's lying, he obviously needs to see you so can I send him down." Even shorter pause. "Alright." He hangs up the phone and whispers to Ian "two alleyways down, take a right in the second one and you'll find him in a little hole-in-the-wall piece of shit storage room." Ian nods, anxiously leaving the room and thanking the girl and Tanner as he goes. 

Ian does as he's told, and sure enough he sees a small room with a door cracked open. Ian wipes his hands on his jeans nervously, at this time wishing he had chosen something a little looser for the occasion. Then again, he wasn't planning on finding Mickey in a thug infested hood. But what should he have expected with a Milkovich? 

Ian leans up against the door frame and lights a cigarette, carefully examining a stressed Mickey, caught up in a bunch of drawings and blueprints teeming around him on the floor. He runs a stressed hand through his hair and Ian starts to get impatient, knowing that unless Mickey suddenly went deaf in the past ten minutes then the dark haired boy obviously knew that Ian was there. Ian clears his throat, and Mickey doesn't even look up, only responding with, "another one of Maria's huh? Look, I don't have time right now so-"

"Make time. I went through Hell and fucking back to find you." Ian spits viscously, his heart racing at a thousand miles per hour. Ian remembers when he was taking his geology midterm that determined whether or not he got into WestPoint, and he told Lip that he'd never been more nervous in his entire life. But he's officially topped that moment, so scared he could cry right now. 

Mickey snaps his neck and stares at an angry Ian before him. Ian slams the door and Mickey drops the papers in his hand, not sure how to react. How the fuck did Ian find him? He knew he was well hidden, so Ian must've been looking really fucking hard. 

"I remember when we used to watch the stars and you told me that if you ever ran off that you'd tell Colin and Jamie where you went." Ian takes a tremulous breath, on the verge of tears. "You thought I'd forget but I didn't. See, I wasn't high: I didn't inhale." He makes his way over to a small counter and leans up against it, staring at a shocked Mickey, who is paralyzed with emotion. "I searched all fucking over for you. I've been out all goddamn day screaming your name. Then I remembered that you said you'd tell Colin and Jamie everything, that you trust them with your life." Ian scoffs and pushes back the oncoming tears with the palm of his hand. 

"They didn't let up easy. But Colin saw how much I cared and when they refused to tell me I lost myself and all hope." Ian stares at Mickey as a tear falls down the redhead's cheek, making Mickey unleash his own. "Mickey, you made me lose hope. I don't do that. But I almost gave up. Colin told me the street name, I stole a car from an angry Italian," Ian chuckles a sad, sad, breathy laugh, "and I nearly shit my pants. I did it all for you. And you know what? I have no clue why, but I did it." Ian starts to slowly approach a distraught Mickey, leaning against a wall as both boys stare at each other. "And for some reason, I don't regret it. Because now, you can see the pain you've caused me." Ian hisses, his voice calm but full of venom. "Mickey." Ian closes his eyes as a tear slips down each pale, freckled cheek. "I thought you loved me."

Mickey lets out a harsh gasp of air, burying his head in his hands, not sure what to do. Ian actually looked for him. He didn't think anyone cared enough to uncover the clues, but here Ian is. And it's really fucking overwhelming. 

"I-" Mickey croaks. He can feel the anger build up inside him. Not towards Ian, not even towards Terry, but towards himself. He fucked up big time, but for a reason very contrary to popular opinion. "I didn't do it because I don't love you. I did it for the opposite reason. I-" Mickey takes a deep breath and crumples the paper in his hand as he chucks it at the wall, grunting as a tear slips down his cheek and he's quick to bat it away. Mickey can't bring himself to look up and face Ian's sad, blue-green eyes, lined with tears. 

"Terry told my cousin, Tanner, and my uncles that he was gonna kill you. Tanner told me, and I told my father that we both went into hiding, so in order to make my story plausible I did, pretending that you came too. I didn't want him to-" Mickey's voice cracks as he jabs him fingertips into his eyes to stop the tears. "I don't want him to kill you. I care. And yeah, I didn't tell you, but it was better that you didn't know."

"It was better off that I thought you hated me? That I thought you fucking neglected me?" Ian spits as Mickey stands up and stomps over to him. Mickey shoves Ian against the wall, his force more powerful than usual. Ian's eyes are genuinely fear-filled and Mickey can sense it. He hates seeing Ian terrified, but if that's what he has to do to get Ian to understand that he only did this for his safety, then he'll do it.

"Yeah, it is fucking better. It sure as Hell beats finding out my father killed you all because of me. I just couldn't risk it Ian. I couldn't risk you, your life, losing you." Mickey loosens the grasp on Ian's shirt as he softly speaks, "I couldn't risk losing us." He takes in Ian's scent, getting lost in the deep abyss of his turquoise eyes, and falling in love with his freckles and fire truck hair. 

Mickey begins to walk towards the tiny kitchen, or what is really just a sink and a counter plus a few cabinets attached to a room with a tiny twin bed and a floor drowning in artwork. "Then again, I guess I already lost us. Good job, Mickey, fucking everything up for yourself." He turns to stare at a still pissed off Ian, whose chest is heaving heavily up and down as he tries to calm his nerves. "But if losing you means protecting you then I'll take that chance. Because Ian-" Mickey stops dead in his tracks and looks at the floor as an anxious Ian stands behind him. "Without you I have nothing. I am no one." 

Ian let's out a sharp breath, and it cuts into both of the boys like a knife. "Am I supposed to be thanking you?" Ian asks coldly, sending a chill down Mickey's spine. 

"No." Mickey says as he continues to stare at the brick wall ahead of him, refusing to turn around and face Ian. "I'm surprised you stayed this long. I would've punched myself in the face." Mickey admits warily. 

"Somehow I'm resisting." Ian says bluntly as Mickey lets out a sad attempt to laugh, but sounding more like a wheeze. The boys stare at each other grimly, both of their faces stained with tears and both at a loss for words. The moonlight seeps its way into the small room, setting light on Mickey's face as his pale skin glows and his eyes brighten, unlike his gloomy soul. 

"So what now? You expect a quick fuck and suddenly I'll forgive you?" Ian asks as Mickey stares down at his worn shoes.

"No. I was hoping that I'd come home with you. At least we'd get killed by Terry together." Mickey suggests, and though Ian's face doesn't light up, his eyes definitely do. 

"Yeah, that's a good plan." Ian agrees, and he makes Mickey know that he's still pissed off with the harshness of his voice, but he says it in a welcoming tone to reassure Mickey that he wants him back. He needs him.

"Okay." Mickey hushes, his voice so quiet that it's nearly a whisper. 

"Okay." Ian quietly repeats. 

"Let me go tell Tanner." Mickey awkwardly points towards the door and Ian nods.

"Okay." Ian says softly.

"Okay." Mickey can't think of any other words to say right now, and his brain is refusing to form them. He nods and heads out the door, hustling to go tell his cousin what the fuck is going on.

_______________________________________

Mickey feels lost as he walks to the bar. This doesn't feel real to him, Ian actually giving a fuck. He thought that Ian would've just moved on, found someone better. He's attractive so it wouldn't be too hard to manage, even living in the South Side he could probably find a fuck buddy. Then again, that's not what Ian has ever wanted. He wants a relationship, someone capable of loving him and sharing heart-felt emotion. But, try as he might, that's not Mickey. Of course Mickey wants to be with Ian, he left the fire truck fuck for a reason, but Mickey has a problem with expressing emotion. How could he not? He lived with the angry, alcoholic Terry Milkovich his whole life. The man who calls him a pussy and beats him black and blue. It's not easy for Mickey to have a sudden change of heart after following his father's example his whole life, and Ian just can't seem to understand that.

Ian can find someone better than Mickey. That's the thing about dating a Milkovich: you can't find much worse. But Mickey is a last resort type of Milkovich. The one that- out of all the Milkovich siblings- Terry has never said that he loves because, frankly, he doesn't. Mickey is seen as the disappointment child, the mistake. No, his birth wasn't an 'I attempted to abort you four times and it didn't work' situation, but it wasn't a 'I love this kid as much as all the others' scenario, either. But Mickey has always seemed to get the extreme hate from Terry, and it seems that after the angry man found out that his son was a fag Mickey has topped Mandy in the abuse case.

Mickey reaches the door and hesitantly pulls it open, nodding to Prima at the bar and excuses himself into the back room. "Yo." He calls to Tanner, who looks up and smiles at his short cousin. Tanner towers over Mickey, but then again who doesn't? But don't let his tall stance and muscular, tattooed arms fool you; Mickey's taken him down a few times. It's just his firey spirit, they all assume. 

"You talk to that kid yet? Seemed bright enough to find his way around." Tanner says as a girl begins mouthing his dick and he grunts, struggling to contain a moan. 

"Yeah. Turns out it was, um-" Mickey stops himself, seeing that he's still in the initial shock that Ian came searching for him. He didn't think anyone cared enough to find him, but there Ian was in the doorway.

"Ian?" Tanner asks as Mickey nods hastily. "Yeah, I figured as much. Seemed to fragile to be a Milkovich. And he showed too much interest. Concern. Couldn't just let him off, ya know?" 

Mickey scoffs at Tanner's sheepish words. "Yeah, he's a persuasive fucker." 

"What'd he want?" 

Mickey bites the inside of his cheek anxiously. He might as well just break it to Tanner instead of sugar coding shit and leaving his cousin to guess around like an idiot. "Wants me to go back with him." Mickey admits bluntly as Tanner ever-so-slightly nods in approval. 

"Not like you were planning on staying here forever, right? I mean, I knew you'd have to leave eventually. But," he tilts his head and Mickey already knows what he's going to say next, "what about everyone else? We've all been lookin' out for you and now you're gonna leave us. I don't mind, but they do. We're family, Mick." 

Mickey sighs, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose in epiphany. "Yeah, I know. But it's just-"

"Look man, you don't need to explain to me. I get what you're saying and I'm all for it. Ian's the one you gotta go drain to." 

Mickey nods, dreading telling Ian because he knows that it will officially end everything between them, but he also knows that Tanner is right. He can already see Ian's resentful eyes casting a pained gaze upon him, and he can practically feel the fire in Ian's chest when he reveals his situation. Ian will either storm out or yell, or maybe even do both since he's been known to have bad outbursts on occasion, but whichever he does Mickey knows it will result in the end of their relationship.

But Mickey knows he's not ready to let that go. 

Mickey knows that he needs Ian.

Mickey knows that without Ian he is worthless. 

Mickey knows that he loves Ian. 

But Mickey doesn't know what to do right now.

_______________________________________

Mickey slips back into the small crannie of the alleyway to see Ian in his place, seated on the floor and reading something. 

"Ian, I love you." Ian reads, not looking away from the paper. "I love my family just as well, and it wasn't fair of me to leave any of you, but I did it for your safety. Love, Mickey." Ian stands up, crumpling the letter and throwing it at the wall. He kicks the pile of paper on the floor in a fit, his face reddened and his eyes sad, gleaming with tears that are threatening to spill. 

"I'm family too!" Ian cries as his voice cracks at the word 'family'. "Jamie. Colin. Iggy. Mandy. They all told me so! You'll be leaving family either fucking way! Do I not-" Ian turns to glare at Mickey, the tears hanging by a thread. He takes a deep breath and stomps past Mickey, walking out the door. 

Chasing after him, Mickey asks, "how the fuck do you know about this?" 

"Tanner." Ian spits venomously. "Your walkie talkie shit was on. I heard the whole fucking conversation. God, Mickey! Even Tanner can see how much I fucking care! I'm starting to really believe that you went blind." Ian hisses as Mickey rubs the back of his neck in exhaustion. 

Ian begins walking away from Mickey, only turning back to say, "I thought that maybe if I showed you how much I cared, that maybe if I spent all day looking for you, you'd realize that I love you and get it through your thick fucking skull that I care about you. But I guess I just wasted my time. Time that I could be spending with my family right now." The words cut through Mickey's heart like a freshly-sharpened blade and he hates himself for not being able to do anything while he watches Ian walk away. 

"Fuck!" Mickey screams to no one in particular as he, not thinking, punches the brick wall with his bare fist. It stings and his knuckles immediately start to ache, but that doesn't stop him from repeatedly slamming his fist into the scratchy wall. After about six hits, he pulls back his shaky hand to reveal the torn skin that is replaced by blood trickling down his knuckles. He doesn't clean it up or even try to mend the wounds, but instead crouches against a wall to contemplate if the choice was really worth it. 

Of course it wasn't worth it, but it's too late now. But it's never too late. He can try, just like Ian did. He has to try. 

 

Ian stomps to his stolen Saturn, rage forming that words can't describe as anything other than 'a burning inferno in his chest' and he feels the sudden urge to scream. Ian has never been this mad, not even when Lip got the acceptance letter from West Point that was supposed to be his. 

Ian, not thinking, pulls out the glock that Mandy handed him earlier and randomly fires, so enraged that he doesn't bother to check what the ping sound was that emitted from the bullet. He doesn't need to go look when a younger man, maybe in his early twenties and not looking extremely threatening rushes over to Ian. 

"What the fuck man?" The guy cries in frustration. "That was my fucking car, asshat!" Ian shrugs, simply letting it off with a 'sorry' and turning to shoot something else. He fires at a brick wall, the sound a satisfying bang.

"Dude!" The same whiney thug calls. 

"What?!" Ian snaps as he turns towards the guy. "Is that your fucking wall, too?!" Ian screams, his emotions taking over him and he can feel his blood pressure rise and his veins pulsate in anger. The guy stares him down for a sturdy minute before huffing in defeat and leaving Ian to pout. Ian walks back over to his stolen vehicle, slamming the door as he gets in and tossing the gun in the backseat. His phone shows the time 12:29 A.M. before the screen turns black. Ian groans as the phone dies on him, and he scrambles around in the seat before realizing that he forgot his car charger at home. "Great! No fucking way to get home. Just great." Ian shakes his head in annoyance and decides that he might as well sleep there for the night so he can search the South Side for a way home well rested. 

_______________________________________

Mickey lets out a loud grumble as he wobbles away from the small compartment he's been secluded into hiding in. Taking a bite of his apple, just to make him look like a raging asshole, he walks through every alleyway in hopes of seeing Ian. After contemplation he had decided that Ian cares about him more than any Milkovich ever will, and for fuck's sake at least the kid tried. He might as well've been searching for a goddamn needle in a haystack trying to find a Milkovich. 

Mickey walks to the parking lot in front of The Drinker- what an original name for a bar- and spots a few motorcycles and two seemingly abandoned cars. One of them is a Prius, and he immediately assumes that it's a lost environmentalist driving, which in that case he feels bad for the poor sucker. He checks the window, seeing that Ian's sappy ass might actually steal a Pruis, but it's empty. 

The other car is a fucking Saturn, and Mickey shouldn't even bother checking that. Why would Ian steal a Saturn? If you could make a getaway in any car, no one on Earth would see a Saturn and jump for joy. Oh boy! A Saturn! -said no one, ever. Ian has more style than a Saturn, but it won't hurt Mickey to try. He approaches the gold car, and to his surprise Ian lays in there, sound asleep. Mickey knocks on the window but gets no reaction from the sleeping alien in the back of the car, though Mickey isn't surprised since Ian has slept through a mini earthquake before. Mickey decides to take matters into his own hands, pulling a gun out of his jacket pocket and smashing the window in, startling Ian awake. 

Ian rubs his eyes and sees a man crawling through the shattered car window as he mutters, "what the fuck?" Ian doesn't know how to react, he's so tired and mad he could fall back asleep at this point and not give a fuck about what happens next. That is, until he hears a very familiar voice. 

"Shit. Is that chicken?" Mickey asks, plopping himself into the driver's seat. Ian looks at Mickey in coinfusion and mumbles, "turkey." 

"Smells like chicken." Mickey argues.

"Everything smells like chicken to you." Ian says as Mickey simply shrugs, grabbing the container and ripping off a leg. "Mickey! You know legs are my favorite!" Ian protests as he crawls up front, flailing himself at the turkey. 

"Yo, don't get your balls in a bundle, Gallagher. There's two for a reason." Mickey says, hinting towards the other one in the box. Ian sighs and picks up that leg, taking a bite and moaning in pleasure. He hasn't eaten all fucking day. 

"Fuck." Ian finally says after a long moment of silence. "Mickey you broke the fucking window?"

"How else was I supposed to get in? You were sound asleep!" Mickey defends as Ian stares at him in awe.

"There's so many other ways! I'm already in a shithole for stealing the thing! Now the cops are really gonna have my ass." 

"Calm down, Princess Prissy. No one's on your ass. You're perfectly fine. Go back to sleep and I'll drive us home." Mickey demands as Ian shakes his head in disbelief but doesn't object, flopping over into the backseat. "Where'd ya steal the car?"

"By the jailhouse." 

"Alright. I know a back way." Mickey says as he flicks the wires and gets the car up and running, staring to drive away from the sketchy hood.

"Are you gonna stay? Because if you're not the I don't even want you-"

"Yes. I'm coming with you and staying, but if we die its your fault. Go back to sleep, bitch." Mickey says as Ian grins and curls up in a ball, actually capable of sleeping peacefully. Of course, being the nosey asshole he is, Ian doesn't sleep but instead listens to Mickey hum along to the radio as tears fall down his cheeks. Ian can see him silently crying in the rearview mirror. The moonlight glimmering on his skin emits a glow that makes his tears visible and his blue eyes transparent like the Bahamas. 

Needing a moment of silence to calm himself, Mickey turns off the radio, which was playing a song about getting out alive and running for your life, and he stares at the dark, deserted road dreadfully. He doesn't know why he's crying, or maybe he does, but if that's the case then he is having a very hard time figuring out what the fuck is turning him into a little bitch. 

Mickey jumps in his seat when Ian lightly taps his shoulder, agony showing through the wrinkles on his forehead and his sunken cheeks. Mickey pulls the car over as Ian stares at him, confusion in his deep green eyes as his pupils dilate. "Mick." Ian hushes, barely audible. Mickey replies with a nod and Ian runs a hand through Mickey's gelled hair, the greasy substance leaving stains on his fingertips. Mickey leans into the touch. It's comforting and helps him calm his nerves, reassuring him that him and the Fire Truck Fuck will be okay. 

"Ian, what if he kills us?" Mickey asks, and Ian hasn't seen a level of trauma this severe in Mickey's eyes since they were caught by the psychotic homophobe who pretends to be a parent, calling himself one without ever earning the right to do so. 

"Well." Ian huffs, putting a cold hand on Mickey's shoulder. "We're already in too deep, so there's no need to worry about it. It's either kill or be killed; we live in the South Side. And anyways, he may have an army but you do, too. And you have something he doesn't have: intelligence. Knowledge. Sophistication." Ian's eyes flicker with anticipation as he proudly states, "and me. I'll be by your side and we'll win this war." Ian holds out his long, bony pinky finger as Mickey stares at it in puzzlement. 

"What do you expect me to do with that?" Mickey asks.

"Pinky promise, idiot." Ian scoffs as Mickey rolls his eyes but doesn't move his body. Ian can sense the tension and sighs, grabbing Mickey's finger and forcing it to intertwine and lock onto his own. "I know you're not big on promises, but I don't make promises I can't keep." Ian grins as his face lights up, even without any source of glow from his position behind Mickey's driver's seat. Mickey, turned in an uncomfortable, body-bending position, smiles a genuine beam at his glowing boyfriend as he twists his body and pulls off the side of the road.

"Get some sleep you fucking goon." Mickey demands as Ian chuckles.


End file.
